


something so flawed and free

by asael



Series: sir, that's my emotional support dom [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: Dimitri desperately needs a break. But who can force a king to let go and relax for a little while? Only another king.





	something so flawed and free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unraelated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/gifts).

> This is a birthday present for Rae!!! Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy this filth.

It never seemed to get easier.

The burden was heavy despite their success, despite Dimitri’s defeat of Edelgard. There was peace across Fódlan, rebuilding was underway, and he was king.

But it wasn’t enough.

He hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t realized it, even, simply kept working, kept trying to make up for all that he had done. But that was impossible, and he probably would have worked himself into the grave, if it hadn’t been for Claude.

The visit was unexpected. After Claude left Fódlan during the war, no one had really seen or heard from him - until he turned up in Fhirdiad, landing his white wyvern outside the city’s walls. Dimitri greeted him as a friend, of course, he could do nothing else. Claude had offered what help he could, Claude had given them the Alliance and the first step towards a truly united country.

But what was Claude doing in Fhirdiad?

“It’s too cold here,” Claude said after Dimitri had welcomed him, after he’d sent servants scurrying to make a room ready and prepare a meal. Claude had assured him immediately that this was nothing more than a personal visit, that there was no pressing business to attend to, and Dimitri had taken him at his word.

“Winter will be starting soon,” Dimitri said, and Claude wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“You mean this isn’t winter? Ah, I regret this already,” he said, but he followed when Dimitri escorted him inside the castle. It was warmer inside, fires crackling in all the hearths, as they would from now until spring truly dawned. It was how Dimitri had always lived, and until now he hadn’t really considered where Claude came from.

Or where he’d been.

“What are you doing here?” Dimitri asked, once they’d settled inside. He’d attempted to settle Claude alone, lead him to his rooms and allow him to recover from his flight while Dimitri took care of the constantly-pressing business of kingship. But Claude had casually asked him to stay, to ‘catch up’, and Dimitri had been unable to find a polite way to say no.

After all, one night spent catching up with an old friend would not cause the kingdom to crumble, even if some part of Dimitri’s mind seemed to think it would. He found himself unable to truly relax, there in the suite of rooms he had provided for Claude’s use, despite the easy nature of his conversational partner.

Claude had always seemed to have a way of putting people at ease. It had worked on Dimitri in the past, when they were at school together, but somehow it didn’t work now. Claude’s easy chatter about his journey here, about some book he’d found in a far off land, about the food and weather of Faerghus - none of it quite seemed to ease the tension in Dimitri’s shoulders.

That wasn’t Claude’s fault. Not really. It had been like this since he took the throne. There was always _something_, and Dimitri needed to do the best he could for his country. He had to make up for -

“Wow,” Claude said, setting his glass of wine down. They were sitting in cushioned chairs in front of the fireplace, food and drink brought by servants, and Dimitri realized suddenly that Claude had been watching him. Claude had always been observant, sometimes eerily so, and Dimitri - his mind had not been on their conversation. “You _are_ wound pretty tight, aren’t you, your Kingliness?”

“Excuse me?” Dimitri said.

“You’re barely listening to a word I say,” Claude said, though he didn’t seem offended by it. Concerned, maybe, but Claude had always been so hard to read. “And I’ve got such great stories, too. So what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Dimitri said, pushing it all away with a shrug, or trying to. “The hazards of ruling - there is always something you must be thinking about.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Claude said. “Even kings are allowed a few moments to themselves from time to time.” He leaned forward in his chair. “No wonder Dedue asked me to come visit. You really need to take your mind off things.”

“Dedue asked you here?” Dimitri’s brow wrinkled. In truth, he himself had not known Claude’s whereabouts, so he wasn’t sure how Dedue had known - much less why he would have sent for Claude. It simply didn’t add up. He was missing a piece, something vital. He had never quite had a head for the sort of schemes that Claude was so good at. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, his letter wasn’t that expressive,” Claude said, “but reading between the lines? He can’t get you to relax, and he figured I might be able to relate a little better. Might have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Dimitri was about to say that he didn’t know what Claude was talking about, except - he did. He remembered late evenings, working on some treaty or laws to help the commoners or another task of rebuilding. He remembered Dedue bringing him tea and gently trying to nudge him into going to bed, or even simply putting his work down and going for a walk. He remembered refusing, again and again.

There was too much work to do. Too many sins to make up for.

He’d refused small things like that, and larger things, like an invitation from Sylvain to spend a few days on Gautier lands ‘just for fun’. Dimitri didn’t have time for fun - didn’t deserve it, not until he made right all that he’d broken.

He supposed he’d barely paused since he’d ascended the throne.

He really didn’t know how _Claude_ was supposed to be able to understand that.

“So,” Claude said, “one king to another - you’ve gotta take a break.”

“What?” Dimitri said, unable to manage anything more intelligent.

“A break,” Claude said, patiently. “Like, find something to get some of this stress out of you. Is this a new concept?”

“No,” Dimitri said, shaking his head, waving away Claude’s gentle mockery. “What did you mean, one king to another?”

“Oh,” said Claude. “I figured Dedue would have told you. I’m the King of Almyra now.” He winked. “Actually, I was planning to send a formal delegation this way to figure out a peace treaty in a few weeks. So if anyone asks, this is a totally unofficial visit - just two old school friends catching up.”

Dedue had not told him. Fódlan, still in the process of rebuilding and sorting out its own problems, had not yet reached out to any neighboring countries. It was true, now that Dimitri thought about it, that what little intelligence the former Alliance territories had about Almyra had implied that there’d been a change in power recently, but since Almyra had also not been attacking their borders, Dimitri had set that aside as something to think about later.

“The King of Almyra,” Dimitri said, slowly, and he had to admit it made sense. Claude had been a capable and intelligent ruler of the Alliance during the war - strategic and strong, winning respect. And then he’d left, and Dimitri hadn’t really thought about what he’d left to do. But Claude had always been different, had always been a bit of an outsider.

Almyra. It wouldn’t have been Dimitri’s first guess, but it made perfect sense now that he knew.

“So this is a state visit,” he said, realizing then that this whole time he’d been treating Claude as nothing more than an old friend, when in fact he’d been speaking to the leader of a nation, a nation that had been at war with his own for years. All of the unfortunate outcomes, the implications of his rudeness began to flood his mind.

Claude shook his head, a simple but firm gesture. “No. Like I said, this is an informal visit. Nobody knows where I am, and hey - I didn’t even bring my crown.” He grinned again, that easy, charming smile that Claude had always managed to summon so easily. “I’m here as Claude von Riegan, your old buddy from the Officer’s Academy, not the King of Almyra. Got it?”

Not really, but Dimitri saw nothing to do but take Claude at his word. He was here now, after all. But it was something else that made him frown.

“Nobody knows where you are?”

“Not specifics,” Claude said, with no worry or stress in his voice at all. “They know I left, they know I’ll be back soon. My advisors and commanders know what needs to be done in my absence.” He shrugged. “I’m only going to be gone for a few days, so it’s not a big deal. If I don’t come back, they’ll choose a new king.”

Dimitri could not imagine just _leaving_. Surely Claude had the same mountain of responsibilities that he did. Just walking away, even if only for a few days, seemed like the height of irresponsibility.

But of all that he knew of Claude, _irresponsible_ didn’t fit.

“It’s called delegating,” Claude said, laughter in his voice. “You don’t have to do every tiny thing yourself, you know?” He leaned forward, then. “But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? You think you do.”

Claude’s green eyes had always been striking - striking, and far too observant. Dimitri wanted to fidget under his gaze, uncomfortable with how easy Claude seemed to see through him.

“You think anyone else won’t do it right?”

“No,” Dimitri said, sitting up straight. Of course he didn’t think that. _Of course_. He trusted the men and women who followed them. He believed in them. “It’s not that.”

“I didn’t really think so,” Claude said, and he was smiling, and Dimitri suddenly had the unnerving feeling he’d stepped right in a trap. “I figured it was more like… you think you have to do it. As penance, to make up for whatever it is you think you did wrong.”

Some part of Dimitri wanted to be offended. Wanted to be angry. But he knew it was only because Claude had seen through him so easily, that somehow he had Dimitri’s number despite all the years and distance between them. He looked away, unable to meet Claude’s far-too-perceptive eyes.

“I have too much to make up for,” he said, and simply saying the words aloud was an effort. Admitting, in some way, all the horrible things that he had done.

“Even if that’s true - and I don’t think it is - what’s working yourself to death gonna do?” Claude leaned forward in his chair, the smile falling from his face. “Look. Fódlan needs you. Your friends need you. You’re doing good work here, but you don’t have to do it all. You _shouldn’t_ do it all.”

Frustration bubbled in Dimitri. “You don’t understand,” he said, almost snarling.

“I understand that there was a war,” Claude said, and his smile was completely gone now, his voice firm and unwavering. Dimitri could see, in that moment, a king. “I understand that awful things were done to you. I understand that, in turn, you did awful things.”

He stood up, pushing himself out of his chair with an easy grace. Dimitri’s gaze was, for a moment, caught by the line of Claude’s body. Distantly, he noted that while Claude had always had a certain beauty all his own, he’d somehow seemed to become even _more_ \- more himself, maybe.

“I understand that you think you need to make up for everything you’ve done. But you’re already doing that, just by taking the throne - by rebuilding Fódlan, bringing peace and prosperity to people to have only known war for so long.” Claude was next to Dimitri’s chair now, looking down at him. “This penance that you think you need to do - you’ve got to find another way.”

As if it was that easy. As if it could be.

“What other way?” Dimitri asked, not certain if he felt angry or lost. Angry because even if Claude seemed to understand, how could he? How could he possibly?

And lost, because - what other way was there, besides taking every task upon himself, working himself to the bone?

“Let me show you,” Claude said, and he tangled his fingers in Dimitri’s hair and pulled his head back hard, forcing Dimitri to look up at him.

The sharp pain of it, the suddenness, woke the beast in Dimitri. He was stronger than Claude, larger, he could end this in a moment - he could end _Claude_ in a moment. How dare Claude touch him like that?

But he didn’t move. He met Claude’s eyes instead, and there was something in them, something Dimitri couldn’t name, something that kept him in his chair. 

“You think you’re a monster?”

Dimitri shuddered at the word. Claude’s fingers were tight in his hair, holding his head back so he couldn’t look away. “Yes.”

“I don’t think so,” Claude said, and he tugged at Dimitri’s hair, hard, sending a shock of pain and - something else through him. “And I’m making the rules here.”

He let go of Dimitri, but he didn’t step away from the chair. His voice was low, intimate, and Dimitri could not seem to look away from his face, the way the firelight played across his cheekbones, the set of his mouth. 

He moved in front of Dimitri, looking down at him. Dimitri looked up, meeting Claude’s eyes, and - he didn’t know what to expect. What to think. He’d lost control over this conversation, this interaction, this… whatever it was. Somehow the power was completely in Claude’s hands, Dimitri only waiting to see what he would do next.

“You think you owe the world something that can only be repaid by your misery,” Claude said. “You have this kingdom on your shoulders, and you’re letting it grind you into the dirt. If you don’t stop, it’ll break you.”

He caught Dimitri’s chin with a sure hand, and smiled down at him for one brief, blinding moment. “So I’m going to take some of this weight off you. Tonight you do exactly what I say, and nothing else.”

Dimitri could not keep up with this, could not keep up with the paths Claude’s mind was traveling, especially when Claude looked at him like that, when he smiled, when he touched Dimitri.

Especially when Claude’s hand slid into his hair again, and pulled his head back harshly. And then Claude kissed him hard, and he couldn’t think about anything.

Claude von Riegan had always been attractive, undeniably so. He was clever and quick, skilled with a bow and a wyvern, and always had a ready smile. But Dimitri had never been able to read him, and whatever admiration he could have cultivated for the other man had always been tempered by the uncertainty of never knowing what he was thinking.

That didn’t mean Dimitri hadn’t thought, once or twice, about what kissing Claude might be like. But that had been long ago, when they were hormonal teenagers, before the war and all its horrors had unfolded.

Dimitri hadn’t thought about kissing anyone in a long time. He supposed that was something else he had denied himself, albeit unconsciously.

Claude was good at it. He kissed with fierce hunger, an insistent need, and when he pulled away Dimitri found himself following - which Claude put a stop to with a firm press against Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him back against the chair.

“You can tell me to stop anytime, and I will. We can go back to chatting, or whatever you like. But until that moment, you obey me completely.” Claude’s eyes glittered. There was an air of amusement to his voice, but Dimitri didn’t think any part of it was mockery. “Can you do that?”

His hand was still in Dimitri’s hair, still pulling just enough to hurt. Dimitri knew what he should be feeling - humiliation, anger at being handled like this, fury that Claude dared to speak to him in this manner.

But none of that was what he actually felt. He licked his lips and nodded, a quick small thing that sent another shock of pain through him.

“Say it,” Claude said, his voice harder. “Answer me when I ask you questions.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, surprising himself with how certain he sounded.

“Don’t think about anything outside this room. Just me.” Claude was leaning in close again, his breath warm against Dimitri’s ear, his voice so intimate Dimitri could barely stand it. He wasn’t sure he _could_ think about anything but Claude in that moment. He certainly couldn’t think about anything outside that room.

“Yes,” he said again.

“Good boy,” Claude said, soft, into his ear, and then he kissed Dimitri again.

It was the kiss, that all-consuming kiss, and not the words - or at least that’s what Dimitri wanted to believe - that made him shift in his seat, suddenly realizing he was half-hard. He felt a flash of humiliation that flowered into something more when he saw the look in Claude’s eyes and realized that Claude had noticed, too.

But Claude didn’t bat an eye.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Claude said, and to Dimitri’s shock he reached down, caressing Dimitri through his trousers. “You just needed someone to take you in hand.” He grinned. “That’s why it had to be me. You think one of your subjects could treat their king like this? But you and I, we’re equals - well, not right now.” 

He stroked Dimitri one more time, and then he stepped back.

“Right now, you’re mine. And you need to take off your clothes. I want you on your knees for me.”

There was a pregnant pause as Dimitri struggled with himself, with what he wanted and what he knew he _should_ want. This was the last moment to back out, he thought. Claude had said he could stop it anytime, but Dimitri knew - he _knew_ that if he started this, he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Wouldn’t _want_ to stop it.

He didn’t want to stop it now.

He stood, and - fingers clumsy - began to undress himself.

It seemed to take forever, but perhaps that was only because Claude was watching him. He wondered for a brief, ridiculous moment if Claude had meant for him to do it - sexily? Because Dimitri had no idea how to go about doing that. But Claude said nothing, only watching him with an air that was almost proprietary.

When he was naked, the warmth of the fire pleasant on his bare skin, Claude stepped close and looked up at him. He pressed his fingers to Dimitri’s shoulders - only that, and nothing more.

“Remember,” he said, “on your knees.”

It was ridiculous. Claude was a full head shorter than him, shoulders slimmer, without the unnatural strength Dimitri could wield. By any measure, he didn’t have the power in this room. By any measure, Dimitri was king here.

Dimitri knelt.

The rug covering the stone floor was kind on his knees. Claude walked around him, slowly, and he trailed his fingers over Dimitri’s skin. With a shock, Dimitri realized Claude was tracing one of his scars - an especially wicked one that stretched across most of his back. He barely remembered where he’d gotten it. A man with an axe, perhaps. Long dead now.

“All of this, and you still don’t think it’s enough,” Claude said, his voice quiet, contemplative. Dimitri’s shoulders tensed, but Claude didn’t say anything else. He just circled around to stand in front of Dimitri.

“Goddess, you’re gorgeous,” he said then, and there was laughter in his voice. Dimitri’s chin jerked up, eyes narrowing, but Claude didn’t look mocking - just amused. At himself, maybe? “You’re wasted on being king, really.” He slid a finger down Dimitri’s cheek, across his lips.

“I should take you back with me,” Claude continued, pressing his finger between Dimitri’s lips, pressing into his mouth. Dimitri took him in, wrapped lips and tongue around his finger. He could feel calluses, from archery or wyvern riding or who knew what. “Strip you down like this and keep you on your knees by my throne, and all you’ll ever need to think about is how best to please me.”

He stepped back, pulling away, and Dimitri felt his loss. He watched Claude settle in the chair he’d been sitting in before, looking relaxed and alive and in control.

“You’d be good at it,” Claude said. “Now come here.”

It was a command, and Dimitri obeyed. He crawled to Claude, sitting at his feet like a dog, uncertain of what would come but ready to obey, trying to ignore the burgeoning need between his legs. Claude’s hands, his voice, the things he was saying - it would have been impossible to not be affected.

Impossible.

“You’re going to suck me off,” Claude said, saying it like _of course_, like _what else could you possibly do_. “And then I think maybe I’ll come on your face - I haven’t decided yet.” He smiled. “But if you do a good job - if you’re a very good boy for me - I’ll think about letting you come.”

He pressed his boot against Dimitri’s half-hard cock, steady pressure, almost enough to hurt but not quite, not quite.

“Until then, you’re not going to touch yourself. You’re _definitely_ not going to come until I say you can.” He eased his boot away, the pressure disappearing, and Dimitri found himself breathing hard. 

_Goddess._

He wanted -

He wanted to do exactly what Claude told him to.

“Can you do that for me, your majesty?” Claude’s voice somehow - _somehow_ \- made that sound like the dirtiest thing he could possibly have said. Like having a king at his feet was what he deserved, what he was owed.

“Yes,” Dimitri said, and his voice was hoarse with need.

“Show me,” Claude said, and he leaned back in his chair.

Dimitri was no less clumsy with Claude’s pants than he had been with his own, but he managed to get the lacings untied. He managed to free Claude from his clothing just enough, enough that Dimitri could touch his cock, could put his mouth to it.

Claude wasn’t hard yet, but Dimitri heard the swift intake of breath at that first touch. He hadn’t done this before - ever - but he thought it was fairly likely that Claude knew that, or guessed it, and that he wasn’t going to be judging his technique that much.

Hopefully.

Dimitri’s eyes flickered to Claude’s. He pulled back and ventured a question, unsure of how it would be taken. “Can I use my hand?”

“Yes,” Claude said, after considering him for a moment, a smile slipping across his face. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

_This time_. Dimitri tried not to think about that, about the thrill that sent through him. He leaned in, rested a hand on Claude’s still-clothed thigh to steady himself, and wrapped his other hand around Claude’s shaft, stroking him. He stroked Claude like he would have stroked himself, a little careless, a little rough, and was rewarded with Claude’s moan of pleasure.

Leaning back in, he wrapped his lips around the head of Claude’s cock, tasting him. Though this was new to him, Dimitri found that he wasn’t hesitant. He wanted to do this, and he didn’t know if it was because he wanted Claude or because he wanted to please Claude. Maybe they were both the same thing. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“Ah,” Claude said, his hand on the arm of the chair tightening as Dimitri took him deeper. “Just like that.” He was hard now, and he moved his hips, silently demanding more. “You like this.”

It wasn’t a question. Dimitri might have been unpracticed and sloppy, but he was eager, licking and sucking at Claude, taking him in deeper. He wanted more, he wanted to taste Claude, he wanted -

He could take anything he wanted, he knew, he could have Claude any way he wanted, he could take control away from him entirely and it would be Claude’s own fault for provoking the beast inside him, that feral creature that hungered for _more_. Perhaps it was what Claude deserved, to have the tables turned, to lose some of that infernal control he so easily claimed over Dimitri.

He could.

Then Claude tangled one hand in Dimitri’s hair again, pulling at it, and it was just like at the beginning - the shiver of pain sparked through him, he felt his cock twitch, and Claude had him easily in hand again.

“I could watch you suck my cock for hours,” Claude said, and for all that he was still in control, his voice was tight with pleasure. “You look so good on your knees.” Dimitri looked up for a moment, only a moment, his mouth and hand still hard at work on Claude, and the hungry look in Claude’s eyes was - 

Goddess, did Claude want him that much? Dimitri had never been looked at that way. Not by anyone.

He bent back to his work, Claude’s hard length, ignoring as best he could his own growing need. If only Claude would stop looking at him like that, saying things like that, it would be much easier to ignore.

But this was Claude’s game, and Dimitri only a piece in it.

Or possibly, he thought with a jolt of surprise, the prize.

“You’re doing such a good job,” Claude said, his words drawn out, breath catching with pleasure as Dimitri took him deeper. “I thought this was your first time, but now I’m not so sure. Mmm, goddess, your mouth -”

He arched his hips again, and Dimitri struggled to take him deeper. He barely managed not to choke, feeling tears in his eyes from the suddenness of it. Claude’s hand flickered out, thumb stroking his cheek.

“Too much? I don’t think so. You can do it. Take it deep for me, your majesty. As pretty as you’d look with my come on your face, I think I want you to swallow it all.” Claude stroked his face again, and smiled. “I think you want that, too.”

Dimitri couldn’t argue, and not only because his mouth was quite full of Claude’s cock. He moved carefully, slowly enough so he wouldn’t choke, and managed to take Claude deeper, until he could let his hand fall away from the shaft, until Claude was moaning and arching and then coming down his throat.

He’d expected it, but he wasn’t used to it. Not the taste - that was fine - but how much of it there was. He couldn’t quite manage to swallow it all, much to his disappointment, and it ended up on his lips and chin instead. He found that he didn’t mind as much as he’d expected.

Claude was boneless in the chair now, panting. It was hard for Dimitri to ignore his own need now, but he harnessed himself, he didn’t let Claude slide from his mouth until Claude pushed at his shoulder gently, pushing him back on his knees.

“What a mess,” Claude said, breathless, and bent in to kiss Dimitri, his lips, his jawline, his chin, licking the remnants of his own seed from Dimitri’s skin. “That’s something we’ll have to work on.” But he sounded pleased, and then his boot was sliding against Dimitri’s hard length again, not enough for any real pressure, just enough to tease.

Dimitri took a shuddering breath, holding himself still.

“But you didn’t touch yourself at all, and you didn’t come. So obedient.” Claude let his foot fall to the floor and reached out, catching Dimitri’s chin in his hand, bringing him up so they could look at each other. So Claude could look in his eyes.

“I did say I’d think about letting you come if you were a good boy, and you _have_ been very good.” He held Dimitri’s gaze for a long moment, and then Claude slipped out of the chair, kneeling on the rug in front of Dimitri. “Look at you. I don’t think it would take much - you’re so eager for it. Just the touch of my hand.”

That was almost certainly true. Dimitri was so hard it hurt, so hard he was afraid to move for fear he would come before Claude had said he could. So he didn’t move, he didn’t look away from Claude. His hands clenched into fists as he tried to control himself, barely managing it.

“But I’ve been the one talking this whole time. Before I let you come, I think you need to tell me what you want.”

Dimitri was not sure he was ready for this, not sure he was capable of doing what Claude asked, but he didn’t want to disappoint him, either. And he wanted, very badly, to come.

When he spoke, it came out hoarse from disuse and rough from Claude’s cock. “I want - you to touch me.”

He wanted more than that, he wanted a thousand things, but in this moment he could think of nothing but Claude’s clever hands on him. It was all he needed, just that. “I want your hands on me.”

“Is that all?” Claude said, and he didn’t move.

“Kiss me,” Dimitri said, not quite realizing he was going to say it until he did.

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Kiss me…?”

Dimitri couldn’t control the scowl that flickered across his face, though he was rewarded only by Claude’s amusement. “Kiss me. Please.”

“I should really make you beg,” Claude said, “but you really have been good. I was right, you know. You were just waiting for someone to take you in hand.” Then he kissed Dimitri, deep and hungry and biting, and his hand wrapped around Dimitri’s cock.

It didn’t take much. Dimitri had been rock hard since he’d put his mouth on Claude, only distraction and the shreds of his self-control keeping him from coming without even being touched. Claude’s hand on him was enough, was more than enough, and Dimitri found himself whimpering against Claude’s lips as he came harder than he ever had before, the pleasure crashing into him like a lightning bolt.

For a moment, the world felt unreal, and when everything ordered itself again Dimitri’s head was pressed into the crook of Claude’s shoulder while he tried desperately to catch his breath, and Claude’s voice was in his ears.

He couldn’t focus on individual words, just the soothing roll of Claude’s voice telling him that he’d done well, that he was incredible, that he’d done exactly as Claude wished. Exactly as he hoped. That he was _good_, better than good, and - it was so much that it was hard to listen to, so much that Dimitri needed and hated to hear, but he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

He pressed his face into Claude’s neck and allowed it until he could breathe again.

Later, they were in front of the fire, Dimitri’s head in Claude’s lap, Claude’s fingers gentle in his hair. In the firelight, Claude looked like some kind of fantastical creature, gilded and glittering. Something knights would go on deadly quests just for the chance to see, just to look at one brilliant time.

Dimitri looked away, because he had to.

“Dedue called you here... for that?” he said. It was, quite frankly, impossible to believe.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he actually just figured I’d talk you into getting drunk and letting loose a little.” Claude laughed quietly, and Dimitri could feel the pleasant vibration of it. “This was my own creative spin on ‘Please help His Majesty relax’.”

“Hm,” Dimitri said, and nothing more, because the first thing he thought was, _I suppose they have always called you a genius_, and he didn’t think he could say that without making a fool of himself. “Well,” he said finally. “I’m glad you came.”

It seemed insufficient for what he actually felt, but maybe Claude would understand.

“It’s not like I got nothing out of it,” Claude said, and Dimitri glanced up to see Claude looking down at him, green eyes full of amusement and - something like hunger, ranging over Dimitri’s body.

Dimitri realized then that he was still naked, and flushed a deep red. “I should -”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” Claude said, stroking his hand through Dimitri’s hair, amusement slipping into something softer. “Honestly, I’m honored you trusted me with this. With you like this, and all of it.”

_All of it_ encompassed so much, too much for Dimitri to feel entirely comfortable talking about it. Not yet. So he settled on the obvious. “Perhaps so, but _you_ kept all your clothes on.”

Claude frowned at him, a playful thing, and rolled his eyes. “That’s because you live in an icebound hellscape, and I’m already freezing fully-clothed.”

“I told you,” Dimitri said, and he found that he was smiling. “It’s not even winter yet.”

“Goddess,” Claude said, raising his eyes, “save me from northern men.”

Dimitri allowed himself to relax back into Claude’s lap, allowed himself to forget about everything except this moment, the man with him, the pleasure he’d just been given. It was easier than he’d expected.

Claude leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dimitri’s forehead. “Next time, come to Almyra. Then I’ll take off as many layers as you want, and we can try a few more things. I went easy on you this time, your majesty.” He still, somehow, said it like it was dirty.

_Next time._ Next time the weight of the world was too heavy, and he wanted Claude to take it from his shoulders for a time. Next time he wanted to kneel at Claude’s feet, and please him, and be praised for it.

There would be a next time, Dimitri knew. Now that he’d tasted this, he would want it again.

And maybe it was all right to want something for himself, now and then.

He let himself lean into Claude’s hand in his hair, his gentle touch, and Dimitri’s eyes slipped closed.

He could simply enjoy this, for a little while longer, and it would be all right.


End file.
